


and i've been thinking lots about your mouth

by xTammyVx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTammyVx/pseuds/xTammyVx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re gonna love it too, Zaynie. I know you will,” Niall promises, soap-slippery hand tracing the outline of Zayn’s side from his ribs to his hip, over the soft swell of his bony arse, settling at the top of his crack.</p><hr/><p>Because <a href="http://zaynandniall.tumblr.com/">zaynandniall</a> inspired me with <a href="http://zaynandniall.tumblr.com/post/108417474467/gets-on-knees-god-i-know-im-not-your-best">this post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i've been thinking lots about your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Betas are a girl's best friend! Ty [freakforhoran](http://freakforhoran.tumblr.com/) and [laziallgna](http://laziallgna.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Because [zaynandniall](http://zaynandniall.tumblr.com/) inspired me with [this post](http://zaynandniall.tumblr.com/post/108417474467/gets-on-knees-god-i-know-im-not-your-best).

“We’ve never done this before,” Niall says, only half-in the shower, steam making his voice fuller and throatier than normal. Zayn would blush if he could spare the blood to his face, and Niall seems to notice that Zayn’s dick is a step ahead of them because he smiles, quick and cheeky and excited, lopsided. He steps in, closes the door behind him.

Zayn cups his hands under the stream, rinses his face, feels his brain sharpen up a bit. He bites down on his bottom lip to contain his answering grin; “ _You_ like it.”

“Love it,” Niall corrects.

Deliberately standing with his hair out of the water, the still sane part of Zayn marvels at the sheer size of the ridiculously large shower and bath. Everything is white and crème and then there’s Niall, palming his body wash.

“You’re gonna love it too, Zaynie. I know you will,” Niall promises, soap-slippery hand tracing the outline of Zayn’s side from his ribs to his hip, over the soft swell of his bony arse, settling at the top of his crack. Zayn bites his lip and fidgets. He’d offered to do this part by himself, planning to scrub himself raw because, honestly, it’s his _bum_ that Niall will be licking and kissing, and he knows that it’s not as weird as it sounds, but _still_. The tenseness won’t leave his tummy, just flutters a little, as Niall rubs their noses together and plants the gentlest, softest kiss on Zayn’s lips, hand sliding lower.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes. His voice sounds so thin that he thinks it’s drowned out by the shower, but Niall must have heard since his smile brightens and he moves for another kiss, deeper and without pulling away. At the first stroke against his hole, Zayn clenches in, and makes a conscious effort to loosen up. Like, if Niall can take his cock on a near-weekly basis, Zayn can take a couple of fingers.

Niall’s getting hard between them, helped along by the little thrusts he gives now and again. Zayn inhales warm steam and tries to keep his head level. There’s always been something about Niall that makes Zayn’s cool go wobbly sometimes, but this is just ridiculous. He’s dizzy from one of Niall’s stubby, thick fingers, managing a second before his mouth slips so that he’s moaning against Niall’s bottom lip, weak in the knees.

“Okay, okay, you’re good.” Niall pulls his fingers out and turns off the water, hands Zayn a towel with his other hand. “Dry yourself off and I’ll be there in a bit, yeah?”

On the bed and crunching the towel between his toes, his armpits, and the backs of his knees, Zayn hears Niall using the sink. Three bottles of lube sit on the bedside table, all of them warming, flavoured types. Zayn curls a hand around his dick and gives a few well-earned tugs, arousal coming in waves of excitement and anticipation. They’ve been waiting for a hotel night. Not very patiently, if he’s honest, thinking back to the nights where Niall was dirty-talking the pair of them into a right mess, his accent going throaty and sharp, and Zayn’d caught himself so many times as he nearly said, “Let’s do it now,” before he remembered how loud Niall can get when he’s being fingered. Zayn crawls under the flat sheet and watches the shape of his fist on his dick moving beneath the fabric, propping a hand behind his head while he goes at it.

“Jesus,” Niall says when he walks in. He’s not hard anymore but he’s naked and frisky and his cheeks are ruddy, smelling like the fancy moisturiser he bought to match his facewash, all in an effort to get rid of the small spots he’s got. The second he’s also beneath the sheets, he pushes their bodies together, keen, heat of the shower pressed between them and making Zayn all the more flustered. Snogging him with a wicked grin, Niall replaces Zayn’s hand with his own, interrupting the rhythm he’s setting by squeezing the base at seemingly random intervals. Zayn will gasp quickly and Niall will kiss his neck, moving slowly until he’s brought Zayn back from the _soclosesoclosesoclose_ edge.

Zayn doesn’t let Niall disappear when he sinks down, tearing the cover back. Niall does his classic blow job style, involving lots of long, slow, wet, sucking sounds, while his bum flexes and rolls against the bed. He’s so into it, which is what makes Zayn particularly vulnerable to too-quick orgasms whenever Niall’s mouth is involved. Embarrassing, but brilliant.

“Need you on your tummy. No, wait.” Niall crawls up and kisses Zayn, pecks his nose. “Okay, _now_ get on your tummy.”

Zayn manages rolling over without dislodging Niall, but he can’t quite keep back a sigh-and-shiver combo when Niall’s knuckles rub down the inner curve of his shoulderblade. Niall is sitting on his bare arse and shuffling down, grabbing the pineapple lube on the way.

“Smelled this one earlier,” he murmurs. “It’s nice.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, resting his head and closing his eyes. The other two are strawberry and kiwifruit, which are sweet enough, but Niall’s right; pineapple’s the best.

Niall’s fingers come first, the feeling now familiar, and Zayn creates an easy-back-and-forth movement that rocks his dick into the firm warmth of the bed, and back into Niall’s hand. Zayn almost says _go faster_ , and _please do that thing, you know, like, touch my prostate?_ He only holds back because he figures that Niall’s the expert who knows what he’s doing, even though Zayn already feels so fucking ready for anything Niall could give him.

Then Niall’s weight tips the bed as he repositions, and Zayn think _yes_ as he dicks harder against the sheets.

“Slow down,” Niall laughs. “Greedy boy.”

“Hurry up,” Zayn bites back, snorting when Niall gives his bum a light, careful spank that doesn’t even hurt.

Niall’s slick fingers splay and grab at the minimal pudge of Zayn’s cheeks, pulling them apart. Not for the first time, Zayn wonders if he should’ve shaved, if he should’ve bought that douche that he saw online, if he forgot to do something that the internet told him was _crucial_. Niall kisses between the gap of his thumb and forefinger, pushes the tip of his thumb snug up against Zayn’s rim, and quickly follows with his tongue.

It’s warm, wet, and soft, broad width lazily tracing up Zayn’s taint to meet his thumb, where he flexes his tongue to a point and prods the tip inside. Zayn gasps, wriggles against the burn. _I’m getting rimmed_ , he thinks wildly. _I’m getting my fucking arsehole licked_. Niall had warned him that it’d feel weird to begin with, and it _did_ , it still kinda _does_ , and then Niall moves his fingers in a way that stretches Zayn some more and skims over Zayn’s prostate. Niall must know, must have _heard_ Zayn’s lip-bitten whine that came so unexpectedly, since he rubs over the bump while Zayn squeezes his eyes shut and feels them roll back a little.

“Never been fingered, have you?” Niall whispers, and Zayn can only shake his head against his pillow. Humming with pride, Niall puts his lips right up to Zayn’s hole, sucking gently on his rim with his tongue sliding in between kisses. He’s driving Zayn absolutely mad. Maybe Zayn could even, like, come from it, from Niall’s fingers. Desperation building every time the lightning of _good_ and _oh_ and _fuck_ sparks—noises coming in open-mouthed whimpers, moans, and sobs—Zayn ruts down like he’s got something to fuck into other than the sheets he’s made sticky with the spit dribbling down his balls, and his own precome. Niall’s firm hands are doing their best to still him but they’re no match for the fire unfurling inside of Zayn, the demand his body makes for him to keep moving, don’t stop, _so close_ —

Zayn comes on a harsh jab of Niall’s fingertips, pillow bunched in his arms, disbelief ringing in his ears. He can’t— When Niall had asked him a week back if he wanted this, wanted to try, Zayn had _no_ on his tongue in an instant. If it hadn’t been for Niall gushing endlessly about how amazing rimming was, Zayn would’ve let that word tumble out and given all of this no second thought. Now he’s sweating and panting and rubbing his dick into its own mess, and the first lucid thought is, _When can this happen again?_

* : ・ﾟ❧ ﾟ・: *

* * *

* : ・ﾟ❧ ﾟ・: *

It’s a week later before Zayn bucks up the courage to go for it. They have a show tonight, and Niall always gets a bit restless and overexcited before, and sometimes Zayn can turn those things into friskiness if he plays his cards right (and goes topless).

Niall sees him, groans, and puts down his phone. “Come here. Can’t find anything to watch.”

Nobody else is on the bus, and the big bed hasn’t been folded up since last night’s _Downton Abbey_ -athon (Johannah likes it, which means that Louis likes it, too). Zayn has a _plan_. Admittedly not a very complicated or clever plan, as it basically involves giving Niall a hand job and asking for a rim job in return.

So Zayn slips beneath the covers, arm stretched across Niall’s waist, moving Niall’s shirt aside so that his hand settles on bare skin. This is something he knows how to do; rub Niall’s tummy, play with the scruff of his happy trail, skim his fingers _just_ under the edge of the waistband. Niall is breathing harder, louder, and his hips squirm slightly, and Zayn thinks, _Green light_. It’s been a lazy drive so far and Niall hasn’t bothered with a belt, making it easy for Zayn to reach in and hold Niall’s cock, cup his balls, palm the tip.

“Jesus, Zayn. Tryin’ t’watch _Geordie Shore_ , and you’re, _uh_.” He has to cut himself off when Zayn’s warm hand pushes his pants down and gets a good grip on his dick, distracting Niall with the slow pace. “Fuck. Alright.” He curls in, shoving his trousers to his knees and letting Zayn work uninterrupted.

“I had a shower earlier,” Zayn murmurs, craning to kiss Niall’s jaw. “You could rim me after this.”

“Could rim you now. I’d like to try having my face sat on, since you seem to like it so much,” Niall smirks, exaggeratedly smacking and licking his lips, stroking his cheek while Zayn giggles. “Mm, that’s a perfect seat right here.”

“Uh huh, smooth-talker,” Zayn snorts.

“Do you want to?” Niall asks.

Zayn stops wanking Niall off, giving him a few seconds of relief—to let his pink cheeks cool—as he shucks off his boxers, though from the look on Niall’s face maybe Zayn’s naked body only serves to make it worse. “Got lube in my back pocket, but it’s not the one you like.” He could only find the mango one, some expensive stuff Zayn bought after a week of research. It tastes pretty fucking amazing, sweet when he’d brought it home and licked a drop off his hand, and he’s sure that Niall will like it, too.

Niall throws his tee shirt to the floor, wriggles out of his trousers. “Shit, do you spend all your time planning ways to get my fingers in you?”

“Not like it’s difficult to get you hot,” Zayn remarks, rolling to his front, lying on Niall. “Hm. Scratchy chest hair.”

“The best kind of chest hair,” Niall boasts.

They rub on each other for a bit, going from lazy kisses to the kind of snogging that makes Zayn thankful for the doors separating this room and the driver’s seat. As they get more into it with fingernails on flesh and precome on their stomachs, and noises of every obscene nature, Niall goes further than just a grope, his fingertip dragging dry on Zayn’s hole. He groans because the position’s not quite good enough for him to do this comfortably, and Zayn hands him the tube.

“Lift your hips for me,” Niall whispers, reaching down between Zayn’s thighs instead.

Ducking into the curve of Niall’s neck and mouthing at his shoulder, Zayn follows the hints Niall gives, opening his legs and allowing a gap between his body and Niall’s. He loosens up all over to let Niall in, just one finger and then two. Easy.

“Riding my fingers. That’s a good look on you, Zaynie,” Niall moans. “Do you want t’get off like this, or do you still want my mouth, too?”

“Your mouth,” Zayn admits.

“Thought so,” Niall nods, manhandling Zayn up, spreading his thighs. He shoulder-wriggles down the bed so all Zayn can see is his blond hair and his own _very_ hard dick. Niall’s cheeks are burning hot on Zayn’s skin, and Zayn leans back to give Niall a better angle.

Soon enough, Niall plants his tongue on Zayn’s hole and licks a long line up his taint, the slide of it knocking a squeak out of Zayn’s throat. Niall tightens his grip on Zayn’s thigh, tendons in his hand popping out as his tongue goes deeper, harder, quick licks and eager strokes. Helpless to the tender heat rolling up his body, Zayn starts pulling off, other hand firm on the back rest to allow him better leverage when he starts to slowly pump his hips.

“We should fuck,” Zayn sighs, head lolling back, eyes shut.

Pushing Zayn up, Niall grunts, “I’ll get m’self ready.”

“No, I mean, like.” Zayn catches his breath as he lifts right off, and shuffles down so that his knees sit under Niall’s armpits. “If it’s alright, like, I want to bottom, I think.” The second the words come out, his skin sizzles, partially from the instant nervousness that skitters down his spine, and partially because he’s impressed that _he actually fucking said it_.

“Zayn. Shit. Are you sure?” Niall sucks in his bottom lip, smoothing his palms up and down Zayn’s waist.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, smiling. “Another couple of fingers, I think, then I’ll be good, right? I only use three for you.”

“You’re something else,” Niall tells him. “It’s your first time, so I’ll go for four.”

“Cool,” Zayn nods, resuming his position. His heart’s fucking hammering, pulsing against his ribs, so hard that he feels it in his tummy, in his fingertips. The stretch starts exactly as it did when Niall was slipping one finger into him as they stood in the shower, painless but intense, slow to fade. He hadn’t been able to appreciate the feeling before, so wound up on his own excitement that he didn’t have the mind to focus on it.

“Tell me how you feel,” Niall asks, opening his mouth on Zayn’s taint again.

“Like, full. Could definitely take another.” Zayn’s groan is interrupted by a hiccup-type, mouth-wide-open, stomach-tightening whimper as Niall presses a circle onto his prostate. Niall’s hips lurch. Zayn turns around and watches Niall’s hand twist and pull and jerk, pinkish tip peeking in and out of his fist. In a low murmur, Zayn adds, “Can’t wait to take your cock, too.”

“Bastard,” Niall laughs softly, like he’s losing his mind. He’s using two fingers from either hand, tongue pressed against his upper lip, dick now sitting unattended on his stomach. “Does this hurt? Tell me if it hurts.”

“Doesn’t hurt at all, ’cause you’re fucking great with your hands, love,” Zayn huffs, all the warmth swimming in his head and his dick, and he’ll come if he’s not careful, jizz on the leather seats, and spend every day praying that Liam won’t take a blacklight to the back of the bus. Oh god.

“Practising since I was fifteen,” Niall grins.

“Got your wallet?” Zayn asks. Niall always carries a condom in his wallet, sometimes two, depending on his mood. He’s an optimist.

“In my jeans,” Niall says. While Zayn rifles through Niall’s trousers in search of the bum pocket, Niall finally gets a hand back on himself, long tugs making him totally stiff again, ready for Zayn. They kiss again, slower, the slick sounds of their mouths matching the ones of Niall rolling the condom down and lubing up. His cockhead rubs on Zayn’s hole, gentle, then his hips tilt upward, dick _nearly_ in, and Niall asks, “Yeah?” and pins his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks so sweet like this, flustered, and it’s his first time, too, the first time topping for anyone. Zayn remembers his first time with Niall, having only had sex with women before, and he’s well aware that it’s different, but Niall has no comparison. He’s bottomed from the beginning.

“Yeah,” Zayn echoes. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, Zayn,” Niall says, easy smile spreading on his lips. The tip slides past Zayn’s rim with little more than a push, and Niall stops when Zayn gasps, goes further when he nods his okay. It all feels so wet, smooth. Zayn’s breath stutters but his thighs burn.

“Stop,” Zayn whispers.

“Baby, you good?” Niall asks.

“Just think you need to be on top,” Zayn admits. He smiles sheepishly. “Should do more squats, shouldn’t I?”

“Ha,” Niall agrees, eyes slipping shut when he pulls out.

They reposition, duvet a mess at their feet, Zayn’s knees folded on Niall’s hips, Niall’s hand between them as he puts his cock back inside. Zayn takes fast pulls on his own, being on the edge for so long starting to take its toll, making him want nothing but Niall.

“Oh, god.” Niall’s breath is hot on Zayn’s neck, head dropped low and back muscles tensing when he’s finally bottomed out. His movement starts as tiny circles and grinds, then slow, little thrusts, staying deep, and Zayn puts a conscious effort into keeping himself loose, even though his body wants to tighten up all of a sudden.

“I’m gonna come,” he admits in spite of everything he’s _supposed_ to feel, like a raw ache, knowing it’s pathetic that he can’t keep it together with Niall buried in him. He jacks his fist faster, unable to help himself. There’s something sexy and exciting and _comfortable_ to the spontaneous nature of all of this, how it began with a plan and ended like this, that means Zayn never had a snowball’s chance in hell at lasting.

“Yeah? You like it that much?” Niall’s grinning at him, having detached his lips from the skin of Zayn’s throat so that his blush and hooded eyes and sweaty shine are there for Zayn to see, his mouth there for Zayn to kiss and pant into. “Maybe you could bottom from now on. Not every time, maybe, but it’d be nice to have a quick shag and not be the one who has to be careful sitting down, or having pants stick to m’arse ’cause of the lube.” His smugness catches into something softer, hips picking up speed. “God, you’re beautiful like this. Beautiful always, but, _oh Christ_. It’s different.”

Zayn barely keeps his eyes open when the _rush_ hits, hand coming to a complete stop at the base of his cock, feeling it pulse as he comes on himself. Niall gets this look on his face, then his jaw drops and his eyebrows tuck in and his voice crashes into a low, strained groan. He shoves right in, and that’s him coming, his body stilling, red tinting his face, throat, and chest.

“Shit,” he whimpers when he’s done, dropping to his elbows.

Zayn licks his lips. They’re dry from his panting and huffing, and his eyes feel warm and wet. He looks away, giving Niall privacy to clumsily to tie off the condom because he’s never had to do that before, and Zayn uses his boxers to wipe off his jizz. They’re both fucked out, gentle gazes and gentle smiles, worn and overwhelmed and somewhat sly.

“Liam’ll go mad if he finds out,” Niall says, voicing Zayn’s thoughts exactly.

“Better not tell’im, then,” Zayn snorts.

Niall flops out next to Zayn, duvet pulled up. They’ll cuddle in a second but for now they both need to cool down, get over that post-sex giddiness that makes their heartbeats sound like microwave popcorn. When Zayn curls into Niall’s side, Niall’s fingers go to his hair and stroke it back. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“Like I just got fucked, like, in the best way,” Zayn replies, angling in for a kiss.

“Mm,” Niall agrees. “Completely wasn’t expecting that. Was it all part of your little scheme?” He pushes Zayn’s hair off his face and holds it back.

“No, just thought of it,” Zayn says. “Wanted it.”

“Ha. Now Harry can make bottom jokes about _you_ ,” Niall points out. Before Zayn can grumble and complain, he’s smothered by Niall’s mouth. Niall crawls on top of him slowly, so carefully that Zayn is actually surprised when he opens his eyes and sees that 1) Niall is using his limbs to cage Zayn in, and 2) Niall is geared for a second round, dick growing big and heavy between them.

Zayn feels his nose wrinkle when he grins and hisses, “Insatiable.”

“Pan, kettle,” Niall bites back. “Wait, no, that’s not it.”

“Love you, pan,” Zayn teases, darting in for another kiss.

“Love you, kettle,” Niall relents, already opening Zayn’s legs and mouthing his way down.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The 1975's _Talk!_.
> 
> Tumblr is [camonialle](http://camonialle.tumblr.com/)!


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